


Clever

by avianscribe



Series: Collection of Prompts [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: And Ardyn is a Bad Man, Gen, Physical Abuse, Prompto's having a Bad Time, Psychological Torture, Zegnautus Keep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avianscribe/pseuds/avianscribe
Summary: Prompto is in Zegnautus Keep, and Noctis comes to save him. Maybe.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Ardyn Izunia, Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: Collection of Prompts [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1432558
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	Clever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sugarcube206](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarcube206/gifts).



> A drabble in response to Tumblr user sugarcube206's prompt, "Clever", for my June 2020 Birth Month Writing Prompts celebration! Thanks for the prompt!

It was his nth day here. 

Prompto didn’t know the actual number (he might have, if his hands had been free to scratch tally marks into the metal frame of this cursed torture tree) but it was a new day nonetheless.

He thought. There weren’t any windows, and he couldn’t see the sky to know for sure… but he’d slept. Sort of.

He took as deep a breath as he could. Hanging here, every breath hurt. Breathe too deep, and his diaphragm (or whatever that muscle was; Ignis probably knew) would just… spasm. And stop. Shallow and slow was the key. Too quick, and he’d hyperventilate again, and that was another fresh hell. 

For now, he could only wait for Ardyn to come. It was always Ardyn. Prompto never (hardly ever?) saw anyone else. He wondered what would be different about today. If he’d be fed intravenously or if he’d actually get some dry bread this time. If he’d get water from a bottle -- or if Ardyn would let his arms down so he could feed himself.

If he’d drag him off to that other room with the metal table and the lights. 

… At least it’d be different.

A clang echoed down the cell block. Someone was coming.

Prompto steeled himself. Ardyn always brought pain with him, but sometimes he also brought food, water, and relief.

What Prompto _didn’t_ expect was a patter of feet, lighter than the sounds of Ardyn’s heavy boots. He didn’t expect the patter to come to a sliding stop. He didn’t expect the breathless _“There_ you are!” of Noct’s voice.

Anxious relief washed over Prompto in a rush, and he raised his head. He tried to blink his eyes into focus on the dark blur. “N… Noct?” he rasped.

“I’ve been looking for you _everywhere,”_ Noctis said, as he came closer. “Let me look at you.” A hand took Prompto gently by the chin and turned his face this way and that. Noctis tutted. (When had he ever done _that_ before?) “You’re looking rather worse for wear.” 

There was something… _off…_ about the cadence of the words, but Prompto couldn’t help the tears that started down his cheeks. “I knew you’d come,” he whimpered. “I knew…”

“You’re so trusting,” Noctis murmured. Then, louder, “I’m sorry it took so long. Royal business. You know how it is. But I’m here now.”

Prompto tried to swallow, but his throat only clicked. He needed water badly, but Noctis was here -- Noctis was here, but something still felt funny -- and not in the “haha, very funny Noct” way. “Royal business?” 

Noctis let go of Prompto’s chin. “Not something a civilian needs to worry about,” he said dismissively.

That rubbed Prompto wrong. It didn’t matter how royal the things were that Noctis was doing; he’d never treated Prompto like he was beneath anything. It was… more like he didn’t want to trouble Prompto with things he didn’t have to worry about. And Royal Things were things to worry about.

And for all that… Noctis was his _friend._ If he knew Prompto was in trouble, he’d stop at nothing to save him.

Maybe. Prompto would have thought that, anyway, before Noctis had shoved him off a train. 

“They've got you in here pretty tight, haven't they, " Noctis was saying. Prompto felt a tug on one of his wrists. His skin crawled. This was wrong.

"Where's Gladio?" Prompto asked. Then with a snap Noctis released the binding on that wrist. Prompto's arm fell, painfully jolting the rest of him, and he yelped.

"Oh, he's around," Noctis said.

That wasn't right, either. Gladio would never in his life let Noctis just waltz around this place crawling with the Empire's invented soldiers (and no, Prompto was _not_ unpacking that right now -- he'd save his panic attack about his origins for another time). 

Now Prompto was dangling from the metal frame by one wrist and it hurt, and even though Noctis was fiddling with the other binding, Prompto wasn't quite ready when his other wrist fell. Noctis made no move to catch him, and his face smacked against the floor when he landed. He groaned and made no move to get up.

"Sorry," Noctis said, but he sounded more amused than sorry. 

Noctis had not once asked if he was okay. He clearly wasn't, but.

Noctis would at least have asked.

A hand slid under Prompto's arm and levered him so he could sit -- and now that he was closer, he searched Noct's face.

Noct's eyes, cold and amused, peered back at him half-lidded. 

The last of Prompto’s faint relief drained away and horror flooded in. “You… You’re not Noct.”

The thing that wore Noct’s face smirked (Noctis _never_ smirked like that) and raised a hand to his head -- and between one blink and the next, Noctis was replaced by Ardyn, doffing his hat in a mocking bow. “Clever boy,” he said.


End file.
